


The Fury of His Love

by calie15



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Kidnapping, Killing, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calie15/pseuds/calie15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only for her he became so infuriated. It was only the pure anger and promises of violence that made her feel safe. It was those reaction that made her know he loved her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fury of His Love

They kept her in the darkness, where it was wet and dank, her wrists bound and connected to a chain at a wall. The first day she swore they would die, but on the second, the third, the fourth, she couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. He should have been there.

They called her names. Worthless, traitor, whore. 

Wendy was strong, she’d been held captive by the worst villain, ever. Yet even he had never been so cruel. There was a reason for that.

They mocked her. He couldn’t find her they said. But that was wrong, it had to be wrong. 

She didn’t understand what they hoped to accomplish, she didn’t care. Wendy wanted to leave, she wanted to go back to him.

They were angry suddenly, so angry, cursing her for being useless. The man held a knife and before Wendy had the sense to scream he stabbed her. Pain flared and finally she did scream, her heart crying for him, wondering why he had forsaken her.

There was a gust that blew through the dank underground cave and she rolled her head to the side, panting from the effort it took to breathe. She choked and felt something splatter on her lip. It was metallic tasting, blood. All the flames extinguished, except one, and there was panic in the cave. Wendy sighed. 

“Let’s play a game,” a boyish voice echoed throughout the cave, “you hide, and I’ll seek.”

Wendy slumped, her bound and raised arms preventing her from falling over. Instead, her head fell against her arms, her shoulder pulling with the strain, but it had begun to ease. Blood loss made all the pain go away. There was a scream just as she began to close her eyes, a blood curdling painful scream. She opened her eyes and stared at the roof of the cave where shadows moved from the flickering light. Another scream, it was someone begging, pleading, then a cry of pain. Then Wendy suddenly realized the shadows she’d seen weren’t from the light (another scream, louder, fearful, filled with pain) they were actually people’s shadows.

Wendy squeezed her eyes shut in realization as it continued. The sounds of struggling, cries of horror, begging and the screams of pain echoing off the walls.

Then there was silence.

The presence, the villain that had taken the lives of those men, it was next to her and Wendy let her eyes flutter closed. The chains released her and she fell, but she never hit the cold floor. Warmth surrounded her and then there was a pressure against her stomach where she had been stabbed. Wendy cried out in pain and opened her eyes to stare at the roof of the cave, the shadows floated above her, appearing angry in the way they swam in the air, seeming to bounce off the rock of the cave as if searching for a way out. 

The pain dulled and for a moment she thought she might be dying. She wasn’t though, and strength returned. Wendy turned her head to look up into his eyes. The fire flickered, throwing shadows over his face. It reminded her so much of Neverland. The shadows always found him there, casting a darkness over him that stole his boyish looks and bared the evilness within him. “Peter…” She whispered.

“My poor Wendy bird, stolen away from me,” Peter said with a slow smile.

It wasn’t a smile meant to comfort her, there was demonic pleasure in it. Except it was Peter, and he was hers, and it did comfort her. He lifted her into his arms and she rolled her head against his chest, inhaling his scent. As he carried her she looked behind her to the cave again. “Their shadows…” He stopped and turned, offering her a better view of the seemingly panicked shadows bouncing about.

“I think they should remain here, don’t you? Searching for a way out for an eternity. How depressing that would be,” he said and chuckled as he turned and made for the exit.

Wendy opened her mouth to tell him to just get rid of them, destroy the shadows, be done with it. But his hand passed over her forehead and she found her eyes closing as sleep overtook her.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she woke she spotted the back of his brown head. He sat on the floor, back propped against the mattress. Peter hated the bed, he hated chairs. He hated homes. It was her home he said, , not his, even though he spent most of his time there. He wanted to be free, and so often he would disappear for days or even a week or two. It scared Wendy at first, to be left alone to her own devices, worrying if he had deserted her after taking her away, but he always came back. He always knew when she needed him. To be quite honest she had found herself liking her time without Peter. He had the ability to get under her skin and being apart for him for periods prevented her from attempting to cause him bodily harm. 

She lifted a hand and touched his brown hair. His head snapped around and he looked down at her with an intense gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, but words didn't come. It was he that spoke first.

He stood easily and stared down at her. "I'm unhappy with you little bird."

Wendy ignored the nickname that usually annoyed her. "I know, you would have died. I'm sorry."

"Don't be so pathetic," he snapped, his face twisting in disgust. "It's beneath you."

His words were like a slap in the face and she sobered immediately. His words had stung, but but aside from her hurt pride she wanted to understand his anger, because she knew Peter well enough to realize there was more to this. So she forced herself to be strong and get on the defensive. She wasn't much in the mood for it, but it was the only way. "I'm so sorry I didn't check with you before getting kidnapped by those disgusting men and slapped around and degraded. It's so much more pleasant being here with you talking down to me."

His eyes narrowed and with unnatural speed he flew at her and grabbed her arms, pressing her into the bed. "For days I searched for you, always returning to check this house, which was always empty and cold. And there was no sign of you anywhere! Who told you that you could leave me?!"

Wendy gapped up at him, but she quickly recovered. "I was taken! There is a difference!"

"You were gone! I couldn't even feel you!" He lowered his head and clenched his jaw in anger. "I don't care how many shadows I have to rip, how many I have to make scream, I'll do it until they realize they can't take you from me!!!”

He'd been scared. Peter had been eaten up with fear for her. Peter Pan was never scared, but he had been for her, and it translated into this anger. Wendy lifted her head, straining until her lips made contact with his. It was just a press of the lips, and when she pulled away the anger in his eyes fled and he stared down at her for a brief second. Then he threw the blanket away and it occurred to her that not only were her clothes gone but she was clean. She supposed there were some things to be gained by Peter being one of the strongest beings in existence. 

His body pressed into her, parting her legs, and rational thoughts fled her. His lips were on hers again, kissing her roughly, bruising her lips, tongue tangling with hers. Wendy grasped for his tunic and yanked it up his body, finding herself needing his body now as much as he seemed to need hers. It was discarded easily and when he lowered his head again his lips found her neck, kissing and nipping a trail down to her breasts. Wendy grasped his hair in her fingers, gripping it. His mouth latched on to one nipple, alternating between sucking and biting, his other hand pinching the other breast before sliding down her body. "I thought you'd forgotten me,” she said suddenly and his mouth parted from her and his head raised.

"You were hidden from me," he said, his eyes dark. "When they stabbed you it was enough pain to reach me and I was able to finally find you."

Wendy nodded. She knew it to be true, but after so many days of being a prisoner to their brutality she began to wonder. 

"Have I ever forgotten you?"

Wendy shook her head.

Peter raised himself up and moved to stare down at her. "I've kept you with me for over a hundred years, and for some of that you didn't even want to be there. Do you really think I'd be deterred? You're mine Wendy bird, forever," he smiled down at her, a devilish glee on his boyish face. "Don't forget it."

She was his, Wendy had accepted that a long time ago. She kissed him again and they only parted when he was divesting himself of his pants. 

Peter didn't make love, even though she knew he loved her in his own way. He usually fucked her, and when he didn't he was slow, but even then it because it was a game to draw things out, make her beg. There were moments she could recall emotions involved. The first time was a rushed joining, of pure need and surrender. Some times were fueled with anger or possessiveness. Others with apology. Peter had to apologize often, mostly with a knowing smirk on his face because he was usually entertained by her anger. Other times, like this one, were entirely different.

He pushed one leg up by hooking his arms beneath her knee, and entered her with one long thrust. Wendy clenched around him and sighed. He stayed deep inside of her, never pulling very far out, and Wendy clung to Peter as the head of him pressed deep inside of her. All she could do was gasp with each press of his hips. He was deep and his fingers and mouth were rough, squeezing her breasts and pinching them, digging fingertips into her hips, teeth nipping at her skin and sensitive breasts.

It was a mix of pleasure of pain, a perfect balance that she responded to by crying out and pressing closer to his body, begging for more. That's how Peter was with everything, a mix of pleasure and pain.

"This won't happen again," he said as he brushed his lips behind her ear. "No one will touch you or say anything to cause you harm again."

Wendy blinked tears at his words, warmth relief blossoming in her chest. She needed to know that, she had needed to hear that from him. Yet the fact that they thought she deserved it still stung, it still haunted her. It reinforced fears that she always had in regards to her relationship with Peter. For all intensive purposes Peter Pan was the bad guy. He was a killer, and he cared little for the lives of others. She was positive that his acceptance of her being his soul mate had softened his edges, allowed her the ability to reign him in, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t any less the villain. Wendy always questioned the fact that if he was the villain, what did that make her for choosing to stay with him? "They called me names," she gasped as his hips jerked into her. "Am I a bad person? Did I deserve it?"

This time he stilled inside of her, but his face stayed buried in her neck, lips pressing light kisses to her collarbone. "What did they say to you darling?”

His tone was the quiet before the storm, and she knew to fear that sound. Her tongue wouldn't move at the question, but neither did he and she knew she had to answer. "A-a whore, play thing, traitor, stupid little girl..." There was more, but she choked on the words.

Peter fisted his hands in her hair and pulled it to the side so that he could lower his lips to her ear. "They know nothing," he snarled with fury, "if they did they would have known I would peel their shadows from their body like it was skin for taking you from me."

As sick as it was she needed to here that. Those kind of violent statements were Peter's assurance. It was how she knew he was serious, deadly serious. There was no other way for him to express the depth of his emotion. Normal people sobbed, cried when exposed, like she might. Peter Pan, when he was exposed, it was uncontrollable fury. He'd killed those men with a calm, controlled smile, but at that very moment he wasn’t in control, he was exposed to her. Wendy needed that lack of control, because then she knew how strongly he felt for her. She raised her hips against him and rubbed harder. In response he jerked up into her. It was only for her he became so infuriated. It was only the pure anger and promises of violence that made her feel safe...and want him. "Harder," she whispered breathlessly.

Her demand didn't go ignored. Peter hiked her knee over his shoulder, wrapped an arm around her waist to lift her hips from the bed and pushed onto his hand as he reared back and slammed into her.

Wendy's eyes fluttered shut and her body arched as his brutal thrust pulled pleasure from her body. Unable to reach him she grasped the sheets of the bed, twisting them in her fingers as he entered her hard, his thrusts relentless. Their bodies had aged to 20 at the most, but they'd been doing this dance for decades now and he knew how to make her scream. Peter took pleasure in that knowledge, but when she looked up into his, noting the darkness in them, she knew this was less about pleasure and more about his fear and her need to be reminded how much he cared.

With a tilt of her hips he pushed her over the edge, making her sob and scream in response to his relentless, bruising thrusts. 

When it was all over and done with she curled up against his side, tucking her head beneath his chin and let her eyes flutter closed and took pleasure and comfort in the feel of him against her, his arm around her waist. He’d been gone a week before she had been taken and it was certain he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. For the moment she took comfort in that. It was no doubt that his fear would translate to keeping her close, within the walls of her home, never far from his side. In a couple of weeks she’d be screaming at him that he couldn’t cage her in and they’d probably have a terrible fight, but for the moment his presence, possessiveness and obsessive personality allowed her to sleep.


End file.
